


The Love We Bear

by Caenea



Series: The Dauntless Chronicles [2]
Category: Divergent (Movies), Divergent - All Media Types, Divergent Series - Veronica Roth
Genre: Alternative Events, Anger, But still a dick, Caleb is a foolish boy, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Death, Edward is a BAMF, Eric needs to pull his head out his ass, F/M, Factionless (Divergent), For all the tag levity it still gets pretty dark, Heartbreak, Jeanine is a giant ass, Lies, Myra is also a BAMF, OOC, People are hurt, Plotting, Rescue Mission, Revenge Mission, Scheming, Secret artefacts, Secrets, Sexual Content, Tris needs to use her words more, Violence, Will needs a cuddle, foolhardiness, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2018-12-29 18:46:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12091149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caenea/pseuds/Caenea
Summary: The sequel to "For The Dauntless" - Eric and Tris find themselves on the run and the city's most wanted people. With their group broken up and desperate, Tris tells Eric an astonishing secret about Chicago, and the pair make unlikely allies to fight their enemies. But with Jeanine hunting Divergents and both Tris and Eric still hiding secrets from each other, can their relationship survive while they fight to save their city?





	1. The Truth Behind The Ghost Stories

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhhh we're back! For The Dauntless was a phenomenal experience for me - it was my first exercise in writing to deadlines and the amount of support I got was overwhelming!
> 
> Again, your feedback is so important and will keep me writing, but I think I bit off more than I could chew with Dauntless. I'm therefore going to keep updates to every other day, rather than daily, but with a guaranteed two chapters per update - sometimes there will be more, but a minimum of two. 
> 
> As with Dauntless, any chapters containing sexual scenes will be marked.
> 
> I hope that those who were there at the start will still be here at the end.

_SEPTEMBER 28 TH – Somewhere outside Amity_

Tris is angry. She doesn’t need to speak the words for me to know she’s angry. I can see it in the set of her shoulders, in the way she pokes moodily at the fire. I know why she’s angry too, and I know it isn’t directed at me. She’s just angry. She feels powerless. The way she prowls the clearing we slept in last night tells me that.

                “Tris,” I say, speaking for the first time today. She rounds on me, and it all comes out.

                “Why did you pull me out?” she rages, her cheeks flushed red. “I might have helped them – I could have saved him!” I try and catch at her, but she pulls herself back, putting herself out of my reach.

                “You couldn’t have saved him, Tris, you know that. All going into that scrum would have achieved is you being caught too, or your death,” I shout back, knowing she needs me shouting and not talking calmly. She needs the argument; she needs to work it out somehow. She screams in frustration, pacing like a caged wolf. “And I pulled you out because I was terrified I’d lose you.” I add it quietly, gently, and she nearly trips. I know why. Her eyes are glittering with tears; she is a breath away from breaking down. “Tris, please,” I say, and my voice cracks on the words. I reach out for her again, this time not in an attempt to catch her. I just want to hold her. She looks at me then, and her face crumples. She gives a dreadful, awful cry and almost falls into my arms. I can feel her sobs rather than hear them. I hold her to me as she cries for him, for the boy who lost his life because of a plan we made.

 

I’ve never seen her cry before, not like this. When she cries, it’s because she can’t quantify her pain with an explanation. She didn’t even cry in Medical, when she was half dead and in incredible pain. I think she has cried, I’m sure I remember hearing a hushed, fearful conversation between Christina and Will after she discharged herself from care. These sobs are being drawn out from a pain so deep, she can’t pull it out and explain it. I never asked her what her relationship with Al was. Part of me didn’t want to know, didn’t want to hear about how her kisses were for him before they were for me, that he had his hands in the curve of her waist before mine found their home there. She loved them all – but for Al, she held something very special. Her tears tell me that she grieves him deeply, perhaps deeper than she might grieve for Will.

 

Her tears don’t last; she isn’t the kind to become hysterical. After a while, she pulls herself out of my arms to wipe her face and turn away to compose herself. When she turns back, I recognise that the shutters have come down and for now, the grief has been packed away, to be dealt with later – to be added to the list of reasons she wants Jeanine dead. She’s looking at the sky, her lips compressed.

                “We can’t stay here,” she says, and I have to admire the self-control demonstrated when the words are perfectly steady. “We’re too open, and the smoke of the fire will be visible from the city in the day, quite possibly the flames will be when it’s dark.”

                “You’re right. We should keep moving, relocating each day and only having a fire for a brief time before we leave the place –“

                “No,” she says, shaking her head. “We need to go back to the city. We can’t keep track of what’s going on out here and besides that we will freeze out here – if we don’t starve first.”

                “Jeanine is going to be looking for us –“

                “Yes, she is. And she’s going to be looking for us whether we go back today or if we go back in a week. Think, Eric,” she says. “Think – we’re in the middle of nowhere, and any fires we light may as well be a big, flashing neon sign saying ‘We’re over here!’. If Jeanine has done the most obvious thing, she’ll have the Dauntless under a new control serum, dancing to her bidding like an array of marionettes. We’d be the easiest ambush ever, and we can’t fight them with two guns and what, fifteen bullets? We got lucky with the fire last night – she would have been too busy doing damage control and probably brainwashing our Faction. But we won’t get lucky again, so we need to get back to the city as soon as we can and start planning.”

                “And what do you suggest we do? Jaunt up to the fence and ask nicely to be let in?” I snap. She glowers at me. The very small, sensible part of my brain is telling me now is not the time to pick a fight. The rest of me can’t resist.

                “Don’t be so damn stupid,” she growls. “I am suggesting that we wait until dark then walk back to Amity. We hop on one of the trains, get back into the city; jump the train by the water tower. We can make contact with the Factionless.” It’s actually a good plan.

                “Very nice, except for one thing – by now, our faces are going to be plastered all over the city as the most wanted people in the history of the place – and we are not as such easy to miss.”

                “So I’ll cut my hair, and you take out the piercings. We can get something to make into a scarf for you on the train, which will hide the tattoos. However, I don’t plan for us to waltz down the main street singing. I plan for us to go underground.”

                “Underground?”

                “There’s a whole different city underneath what people see. Abandoned train tunnels, abandoned transport tunnels, abandoned walkways. The city we live in is only half the picture.” I gape at her.

                “All that – it’s just ghost stories.” She gives a derisive snort.

                “Don’t be ridiculous. The Factionless have a whole world you won’t have seen. Society didn’t want them, so they’ve built their own, beneath the feet of the city that tossed them aside like garbage. You wouldn’t know, because you didn’t care enough – but they have become another Faction, the sixth Faction. When I was a child, my mother showed me some of the entrances, and warned me never to go below the city streets without an invitation because that’s their world. One of them is under the old water tower – the one you used as your base in Capture the Flag.” I stare at her.

                “How – why don’t people know about this?” She shrugs, picking at the bandages over one of her hands. She used to do that with her splint, too, that restless pick, pick, pick.         

                “They don’t want people to. Understandable, given what an awful lot of people think of them. Most of Abnegation don’t even know.”

                “But your mother does.” It’s a flat statement. She sighs, and looks up at me.

                “You’d better sit down, Eric. It’s a long, long story.”


	2. Precious Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tris tells Eric a secret about her mother, and Eric makes the discovery that Tris is grieving more than he can understand...

_SEPTEMBER 28 TH – Somewhere outside Amity_

 

                “When I was a very little child, my mother used to meet with a Factionless man called Luke. He was about thirty, and very sick – he had heart disease. Never been diagnosed, but there was no mistaking it – his skin was ash-grey and he had appalling attacks of pain. Erudite were developing a medicine that would be able to save him – you probably knew about it. It was basically a liquid pacemaker. You should also know that Abnegation made a law stating that medicine couldn’t be refused to those who needed it. But there were – and are – no laws about making that medicine so prohibitively expensive that the Factionless would never be able to buy it. Luke had a wife, and she’d just had a baby. He was desperate to see his child grow up but knew he couldn’t afford the medicine. Every time Abnegation tried to change that law, the other Factions blocked it. My mother asked for it, pretending it was for an Abnegation member, but someone must have tipped Erudite off and they said they’d need to meet the Abnegation member. So my mother was defeated – Luke had no papers, obviously, and he was too sick to pass as one if forgeries could be obtained. He would have seen a doctor long before it got to that point.” She pauses, and takes a deep breath.

                “My mother stole the medicine,” she says, conversationally. “She disguised herself as a Factionless, covered her face and hair, waited for nightfall and broke into Erudite headquarters. She was nearly caught, too – had to run for her life. She was doing it as a last resort – she’d tried to collect for it, but it was so expensive that she couldn’t raise enough. So she stole it, and waited for Luke to visit again. He didn’t come, but his wife did – Luke was dying. Mother explained that she had the medicine, showed it to his wife. She took her at once, took her down into the depths of the world of the Factionless, brought my mother to a place where no Faction member had ever been before.

                “Luke lived. The medicine my mother stole worked and he got better. It was a near thing for quite a long time though, and he hung between life and death. But he lived. Abnegation condoned what she did in silence, and even though questions were asked about the Factionless woman who successfully stole from Erudite that night nobody betrayed her. Jeanine knew, I think, but couldn’t prove anything, so nothing came of it. But I think that’s where some of the mistrust started for Jeanine – she was afraid this if my mother could successfully break into Erudite, what else could Abnegation do? Even so, my mother never regretted it and nobody ever condemned her for it either.

                “The Factionless were so grateful for what she’d done. They couldn’t repay her, not that she wanted repaying. But from then on, things changed. She was permitted to go where nobody else was, she was allowed to go underground and see them in their own homes. Once or twice she took me with her. She used to say that I might need to know it all one day. Looks like she was right. They repaid my mother in the only way they could, and in the only way she would accept – in safe passage if any of us ever needed it. She was very clear about it – I was only ever to use it if I had nowhere else to go. I think this is that occasion, and it might be the different between us living and dying.” I’m silent with shock at this, and appalled at the reality of my one-time Faction’s arrogance. Of course we knew that medicine was something the Factionless couldn’t afford, but to withhold it from a dying man?

 

But what shocks me most is Tris. She grew up like this – surrounded by death, surrounded by the rejects of society as they fought for the basics of life. And for the first time, I realise how _angry_ she is about that and how raging she is that she hasn’t been able to help. Abnegation are, by definition, a peaceful people. Anger is selfish; I seem to remember Four telling me once, in response to me asking him why nothing made him outwardly angry. Not to mention that it can make people uncomfortable, so it’s discouraged.

                “Eric?” she queries, and I bump back to earth. “You still with me?” she asks.

                “Yes, sorry. I – I – I’m sorry.”

                “What for?”

                “For Erudite. For what they’ve done.” She shrugs, poking moodily at the ground with a twig.

                “You didn’t do it, did you? You would have just been a kid yourself.”

                “Not just that.”

                “Still not your fault.”

                “But you’re still mad,” I say. She throws the stick away and sighs.

                “Yes, I’m still mad. But not at you. I’m mad at myself. They came along on this because I asked them to, because I made them think it’d work and that we’d be able to take Erudite out easily. And Al is dead, because of my arrogance and the mistakes I made.”

                “You didn’t make any mistakes,” I assure her, but she snorts.

                “I told someone I shouldn’t have, didn’t I? Or I let someone overhear something. Because Jeanine knew we were coming, she knew we’d changed out the serums and that Dauntless weren’t going to be under her control. She had time to plan how to trap us – she had time to arm her Faction. And she only had time to do that because she knew, meaning someone told her – meaning that someone probably told Max. So we trusted someone we shouldn’t have trusted and I was the one who did the telling. So it is my fault and he’s dead because of that. And you can dress it up however you want, you can tell me I’m not responsible for his death – but my actions put into play the events that lead to it. So no, I didn’t fire the bullet that killed him – but I was the reason he was there to be in the line of fire. He came for me. He came because I asked him to and he always did what I asked, he always stood by me like I always stood by him.” She looks at me, she finally looks at me, and the agony in her eyes is deep enough to drown a man. “I as good as killed him. That’s my burden to bear, not yours, so I shouldn’t take it out on you.”

 

She won’t let me reassure her, she won’t hear my insistence that it isn’t her fault and that she isn’t responsible. She won’t hear my pleas that it was my idea as much as hers and that I was equally responsible. She won’t listen when I say that if there’s blame here, it’s my own for entangling her in the first place, for not being stronger from the start. She won’t let me touch her either – I want desperately to hold her and comfort her but she refuses. She won’t kiss me, she turns her face when I try and kiss her. And all the time we walk back to Amity, through the woods and round the farms, while the sun sets behind us, she is silent.

 

Her silence is frightening. In all the time I’ve known her, she’s never been this silent. She speaks her mind – isn’t it why I fell in love with her? Because she couldn’t shut up for five damn minutes? Because she told me exactly what she thought of me, what she thought of everything? She spoke up when nobody else would, she called me out when they were throwing knives and I was giving Al a hard time. She stood in front of that target – that was done in silence. I’ll never forget the murderous rage on her face as she stared me down in that terrifying silence, as she didn’t so much as sigh in fear and God knows, surely she _must_ have been scared. Who wouldn’t be, when they were staring at knives that were going to be thrown at them? But that was silence like this – thick, forbidding. That characterises her anger, I think.

 

I always thought there were only two types of anger – hot and cold. Hot anger, when your throat goes tight with it and you shake under the influence of it. That’s my anger – so angry I can barely see and so furious that I can’t control what I say and do. Then there is cold anger, anger so deep-rooted that you are entirely calm on the outside, dry-eyed and stiff-backed. That’s her anger, when she becomes icy and closed-off, keeping her fury inside. But this is a different kind of anger. This is _rage_ , so all-consuming that it has blinded her to everything but her anger. I don’t know what to do. When she is coldly angry, she is easy to defuse – let her argue it out and kiss her silly so she forgets. When I am heated with anger, she pokes at the wound until I explode, then she holds me while I come down. It’s how we work, why we work – but this is something else. I don’t know what to say or do or help her. I remember how hot her eyes were when I threw those knives. Now they’re blank as glass, fixed and staring, and I wonder what she’s seeing.

 

I wonder if there’s enough blood to pay the price she wants. I wonder if there are enough bullets to make her even. I wonder if she’d consider Jeanine’s debts repaid if she painted Erudite scarlet with blood and buried it in bodies. I wonder if the price she’s owed can be paid, or if this price is too high to meet.

 

This is not the Tris I know, this isn’t the girl I fell in love with. This is a girl with a score to be settled, and I find that I am afraid of what this Tris might do.

 

I find that I am afraid of her. 


	3. A Brief Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tris and Eric return to the city, and meet an old friend...

_SEPTEMBER 28 TH –Amity_

The fence looms over the farms in the twilight, dark and forbidding. She speaks before I can.

                “The lights are off,” she says, biting her lip. “Is that something they do?”  I shake my head.

                “No, it isn’t. The fence is always lit. It needs to be, so they can patrol it.” We don’t need to say anything else to know the other is worried.

                “Maybe the power’s out,” she suggests.

                “Separate generators,” I say shortly. “The city runs on one, the trains and the fence run on the other.”

 

Amity is in darkness, but it always is by this time. They’re up with the dawn, much like Abnegation, so they sleep early. I duck out of the trees and cross to the tracks, listening closely. The tell-tale buzz at least confirms that the trains are still running, so whatever is going on at the fence, it isn’t a power outage. Far more likely that the power to the fence has been deliberately switched off. I go back to Tris. She’s pale in what little light there is, her eyes dark hollows in her face.

                “Trains are running, I can hear the buzz on the line. Someone must have deliberately switched the fence off. Perhaps they hoped that switching it off meant we’d be more likely to light up torches. But we can’t risk boarding here now – we’ll go to the woods, where the track runs through the trees and board there. I don’t want to do it, because that track will mean we have to jump just inside the fence, as it’s the peripheral train. But they’re almost certainly keeping watch.”

 

We go along with this plan, and get lucky – the train is full of fabric bolts and clothing ready-made up. Tris recognises it at once.

                “Factionless things. Excellent. Put this on,” she instructs, throwing me a bundle. “Take out your piercings, cover your hair. I’ll do the same.”

                “I thought Abnegation made all the things they hand out to the Factionless?”

                “Amity make some up when we’re busy – with Dauntless and Candor initiations finishing on the same day, they send a few ready-made things,” she explains, stripping down rapidly. It’s not the time, but I look anyway. All milky skin and soft curves. God, she’s beautiful. “Eric! Get changed!”

                “Sorry,” I mutter, following her own example. She’s wrapping a scarf over her hair, and I recognise it as a typically Factionless covering. I take out the piercings and drop them into my pocket, before I frown over the scarf she gave me. “Tris, I don’t know how to cover my hair with this.” She whisks the square out of my hands and folds it into a triangle, tying it bandana-style. She tucks another scarf around my neck, directly under my jaw. I feel like I’m wearing a neck brace. I tug at it, only to earn a frown and her batting my hands away.

                “Stop it,” she says. “It’s hard enough to cover those tattoos as it is.” She pulls it back into place.

                “Sorry. If I’d known I’d be on the run one day, I’d have got something easier to cover.” She doesn’t smile, but she looks less severe. “Are you ready?” She nods, and tucks her weapon into her waistband, pulling her shirt down to cover it. I do the same, even though I don’t like not having it to hand.

 

We jump in the shadow of the fence, and she looks up at its dark bulk as it towers over us. There’s not a sound from anywhere – the city may as well have been abandoned completely. Far to our left is the black height of the old water tower, the Ferris wheel in front of it.

                “It’ll be pitch dark soon,” I mutter to her. “We’ll get lost.” She snorts as derisively as she can while being as quiet as possible.

                “Don’t be ridiculous.” And we don’t, either. I can barely even see her, and she’s right next to me, but she seems to know exactly where she’s going. Every so often she pauses and listens to something, before either continuing or slightly changing direction. I daren’t ask what she’s doing.

 

She halts on the edge of the trees by the old water tower. It seems like it’s been years since we were last here, when it’s barely been three weeks. It seems like that fateful game of Capture the Flag was in another life, like it happened to two different people. It was after that game that I kissed her for the first time. We’d goaded each other into fury and I remember how desperate I was to kiss her, to kiss away that glare. I remember that her eyes were hot with rage – and then hot with something else. I remember how she’d wrapped her legs around me, how she gripped my shoulders and pulled me in to keep kissing her, how it felt like I was holding a bear cub in my arms – beautiful, but potentially lethal. She puts her head back and calls out – but it’s not human. She trills like a bird, a sweet whistle that must reach for miles. Even though I’m standing next to her, watching her make that sound, I can’t tell it’s not an actual bird. I listen hard, and a fox screams somewhere. She smiles, and points. I squint through the darkness, and see the brief flare of a match – only for a second, before it’s extinguished at once. She tugs on my arm, and I follow her forward, heart pounding like a drum. She stops and I can make out a vague shadow now.

                “Who are you?” A voice asks, and I jump badly. There’s more than one.

                “My name is Beatrice Prior. My mother is Natalie Prior.” I slide my eyes sideways. Natalie isn’t an Abnegation name. It’s a Dauntless name. “She helped someone once, and told me to come here if I was ever in trouble.”

                “Who’s he?” the same voice demands.

                “This is Eric,” she answers. “He’s a friend. He’s in trouble too.”

                “Follow us.”

 

They take us inside the tower and lead us around the back of the old pump. A trapdoor is open there, light pouring from it. I can see the people we’re with now – all three of them are men, all burly and well over six feet. None of these people look like the frail individuals I am used to seeing on the streets of the city.

                “You took your time, Beatrice,” one of them says, as the trapdoor closes behind us and we start descending the stairs. “We expected you yesterday.”

                “We had to run,” she says curtly. “We left the city.”

                “Probably the wisest thing. How are you?”

                “What’s been happening?” she demands, obviously in no mood to be exchanging pleasantries.

                “A good deal, but this is not the place to talk about it. Someone wanted to see you as soon as you put your appearance in.” The stairs lead to a shadowy passage, old lights struggling to provide illumination through their filthy glass casings. Water is dripping from the ceiling and I realise we must be under the swamp. It smells of damp down here, damp and rotten grass. The water on the floor is stagnant, and that only adds to the scent. I’m desperate not to crinkle my nose at the smell, afraid I might offend.

                “Have you heard anything about my parents?” she asks, and I hear the anxiety in her voice. With a guilty jolt, I realise I haven’t even asked if she’s OK. I should have automatically been checking on her. There’s a gap between us, and I feel that it’s widening by the second. I don’t know what to do to bring her back to me; I don’t know how to pull her back.

 

I follow Tris and our companions down the passage for a long time, until we come up to an empty door frame. One of the doors is lying on the floor of the passage, but the other is obviously long gone. We go through the frame into a large open area, with a drop off some way in. With a jolt, I realise that we’re in the old subway system. It’s absolutely empty, the shadows crowding the edges of the station where the poor lighting can’t reach. I always thought it had been blocked off completely, that it was now entirely inaccessible. Plenty of people thought it was just a myth. Tris is looking round with interest, and I realise it must be her first time down here too. The three men who met us at the water tower tell us to wait, and all three of them leave. Tris sighs, and crosses to the edge of the platform. I join her, and we dangle our legs over the side. She kicks her heels against the edge of the platform.

                “You OK?” she asks me, watching a mouse shuffling between the old tracks, clearly hunting for scraps.

                “I don’t know. Did you know all this was down here?”

                “Yeah. Never saw it – or not this bit – until now, but I knew.”

                “Where have they gone?” I ask, and she shrugs.

                “I would expect that they’ve gone to get someone who can vouch for who I am.”

                “But they brought us down here.”

                “Yes, because I told them my name, and my mother’s name. Doesn’t mean they’ll actually help us beyond hiding us for now.”

                “What do we do if they don’t?”

                “Not much we can do,” she says drily. “Apart from leave at once and make another plan.”

                “Tris?” She jolts round, and then scrambles to her feet.

                “Edward!” He embraces her and she hugs him back. When they separate, he’s smiling widely.

                “Almost didn’t recognise you under all that,” he says, motioning at the scarf covering her hair. His eyes slide past her and onto me, and he smirks. “So Uriah _was_ telling me the truth about you two,” he comments, and she straightens up at once.

                “Uriah’s here?”                

                “Turned up at the water tower yesterday morning, with Marlene in tow.”

                “Did anybody else make it?” she demands.

                “No," he says, shortly. "Nobody else.”

                “Not Bud, or Zeke? Tori? Not Four? Will, Christina?” Edward’s face is shadowed.

                “Erudite put the word out that they have Will, Christina and Four in custody. They’re charging them with unprovoked violence and trespass, apparently. I don’t know where Bud, Zeke or Tori are and Uriah told me that there was another girl – Lynn. She’s not here either. Tris – Al?” I can just tell from his tone that he doesn’t know, and Tris’ shoulders slump as she shakes her head.

                “Dead,” she says hoarsely. “Sorry.” Edward nods.

                “I was afraid of that. Now, you two must be hungry. Come on, come with me.”

 

Apparently we’ve been accepted. A little weight leaves my shoulders, and I take Tris’ hand as we follow Edward down another corridor. She doesn’t pull it back, but I still feel like there’s space between us, as if she’s drifting away from me. I don’t know what it is, I can’t put my finger on it, and I can’t stop it.

 

I’ve lost so much. I can’t lose her too.


	4. Reaction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tris and Eric are reunited with Uriah and Marlene, and Tris finally reacts under the strain...

_SEPTEMBER 28 TH – Factionless Territory_

Edward leads us through a maze of tunnels and corridors, all as poorly lit as the one that led to the subway. However, the further we go the drier they become, which at least tells me we’re no longer under the swamp. Edward seems at home here, striding along with a confidence he never had in Dauntless training. I wonder if he was holding back in training, in a bid to keep with Myra. She was never going to bloody make it. Maybe she only transferred to stay with him. Damn stupid reason to transfer – unless you plan to transfer to Abnegation or Amity. That’s easy enough to fake.

 

We eventually emerge into a huge, cavernous space that isn’t unlike the Pit at Dauntless. I look up, but there’s nothing to see – it looks like the roof could be miles and miles away. The lights are strung across the empty space, and don’t reach to the roof.

                “Where is this?” I ask, and Edward grins at me.

                “The Faction headquarters of the Factionless, obviously. We’re under the old Millennium Park.”

                “Wait – we’re underneath Erudite?” I demand, and Tris manages a faint smile.

                “Keep your friends close,” Edward says, smirking.

                “And your enemies closer,” Tris finishes.

                “And Erudite have no idea you’re down here?” I ask.

                “Not a clue. We can come and go with ease from here, we can keep dry and reasonably warm.”

                “It’s excellent,” Tris says, looking round us.         

                “Food,” Edward says decisively. “Come on.” He leads us across the open space and I can feel people watching us, although every time I look at them directly, they look away. The whispers that follow us are like breeze – and it unnerves me. To look at Tris, who’s chatting to Edward as casually as if she does this all the time, you’d think she thought there was nothing wrong.

 

The tension in her shoulders and back, however, tell me a completely different story. At least I can still read her. Doors line the side of the cavern, and Edward walks to one with the number 58 painted on it roughly.

                “Welcome home,” he says, and opens it. The room is small, with a bed, chairs, table, sink and stove crammed in around the edges. Sitting on the bed is Myra, her face creased with worry that clears as soon as we comes in behind Edward.

                “Tris! Eric! Oh thank God you’re OK. Come in, come in. I’m going to go and tell Uriah and the others that you’re safe,” she says, hurrying out. Edward grins and moves over to the stove, where he lifts the lid off a pot.

                “Excellent, soup’s ready. Sit, sit,” he says, gesturing at the chairs around the rough table. He ladles out two bowlfuls and puts one in front of each of us. “Eat this – it’s beans and rice mostly, but it’s pretty good anyway. Myra is a truly excellent cook. I, on the other hand, can burn water.” It is good, and most importantly it’s hot. I hadn’t really realised how cold I was until I can wrap my hands around the bowl. Tris is obviously ready to launch an interrogation but Edward shakes his head at her. “You eat,” he says firmly. “I’ll start filling you in whilst you do. You can ask me your questions afterwards.”

                “Alright,” she says. He nods at her, and sits back in his chair.

                “Well, to start with, your little adventure at the Erudite headquarters has been called a vicious and unprovoked attack. Jeanine is saying that you and Eric and your little gang forced your way in, shot a couple of people, and attempted to steal valuable medications, serums and artefacts. She’s slapped your faces all over the city and says that anyone who sees you is to report you at once and not approach you – apparently you’re both _very_ dangerous. She has the Dauntless in her control – she’s obviously brainwashed them somehow but outwardly, they seem to be acting of their own free will. Abnegation was stormed earlier this evening – they cut the power to the whole city and Jeanine stormed in with an army at their backs. She accused your parents of hiding you both. I’m sorry Tris, but the last word we had was that they’d both been arrested.”

                “Are they alive?” she asks him, her voice hoarse with fear. I reach over and cover her hand in mine, desperate to offer what comfort I can. Edward looks at the gesture with interested eyes, but makes no comment about it.

                “As far as we know, they’re both alive. They tore Abnegation apart, but eventually had to accept neither of you were there and left. Marcus Eaton fled when they first arrived – nobody knows where he’s gone or why. But it looks bad, obviously – as if he’s got something to hide. The biggest problem is obviously that she’s accusing you both of – well, in your absence you’ve both been charged with malicious destruction and attempted murder.” He takes a deep breath. “For now, it looks like the other Factions are staying out of it. Jack Kang has told her that he’ll put you on trial if you both turn up, but otherwise he isn’t getting involved. Joanna has said that Amity are staying neutral but has agreed not to shelter you. Abnegation – well, who can say? You’d assume that they’d take you in if you showed up, but honestly I don’t know right now. And Dauntless – well, whatever Jeanine did to them, they’re out.”

                “Have you heard anything about who she’s working with from Dauntless?” I ask. Tris is staring into her soup, and has long since stopped pretending to eat.

                “Max,” he says, instantly. “I heard that Four was apparently under arrest for his attempted kidnap, so he’s certainly involved. And we have been observing Erudite. Peter’s been coming and going at will.” Tris’ head snaps up, her face dark with anger.

                “Peter?” she hisses. Edward looks startled at the level of rage. Of course – he was Factionless. He doesn’t know what Peter did, how badly he hurt her.

                “Yes, Peter. Not surprising really – he’s the sort of cowardly scumbag to _enjoy_ this kind of thing.” I prise the spoon out of Tris’ fist before she opens the wounds on her palms back up and take her hands in mine.

                “We’ll get him,” I say to her, my voice shaking with the anger coursing through my own veins. Edward looks between us, a frown forming on his face, but even as he opens his mouth, the door crashes open.

 

There’s a nasty gash on Uriah’s face and Marlene looks exhausted, but they’re both in one piece. Myra is beaming behind them and Uriah swoops down on Tris to hug her.

                “Thank fuck for that,” he says, before putting her away from him and scowling at her. “And where the hell have you both been?” he demands. “Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?”

                “Uriah, we’ve been gone a day,” Tris points out. “Did you have any trouble getting here? And why isn’t Bud with you?” she asks anxiously, looking at the cut on his face.

                “We lost him – he ran through the wrong door and he got caught. Once we were out of Erudite, the way was pretty clear. Tris – what’s happened to Al?” Her face twists in distress, and she turns back to her soup. Uriah looks at me, and I shake my head.

                “He didn’t make it,” I say, shortly. Marlene pales and sits down with a bump.

                “We were hoping he was with you,” she says. “We heard Jeanine had caught the others.”

                “How are you people getting this information?” I demand. Tris is obviously in no state to be asking the questions. Edward looks grave.

                “We hear a lot,” he says. “When you’re constantly overlooked, it’s funny how many people have very confidential conversations in your hearing. And anyway, this is hardly secret stuff – what you people did is the talk of the entire city.” He’s looking at Tris closely. “I think you two would appreciate getting some sleep,” he announces, standing up. “There will be time enough tomorrow to make plans and schemes. This is the safest place in the city and you can sleep soundly knowing that.” I agree entirely, and bend down next to Tris.

                “Come on, Tris,” I say, gently. “Let’s go.”               She obviously hasn’t heard a single word of the conversation. “Bed,” I say. “We’re going to bed.” She stands up, and now we’ve reached the safe haven, I can see reaction setting in. I loop an arm around her waist and half-carry, half-drag her after Edward as he leads us down the row of doors, up two levels and finally stops outside a door marked 131.

                “We’re short on space,” he tells me softly, one eye on Tris. “You’ll have to share – is that OK?”

                “She wouldn’t be going anywhere without me even if you did have the space for it,” I say shortly, and he nods.

                “Good answer,” he says, smiling. “I’ll leave you both to it, then. We’ve got showers –“ he tails off, looking doubtfully at Tris. She’s obviously in no state to shower independently, and I rather get the feeling that even exhausted as she is, I’d get a mouthful if I suggested helping her.

                “Perhaps in the morning,” I say. “Is the tap water hot?”

                “Yes,” he answers. “We’re quite modern down here.” I grin and he opens the door. “Get her to bed. Whenever you wake up in the morning, come back down to me and Myra – 58, remember. No rush, so don’t feel you have to drag her out if she doesn’t wake. I’ll get you if anything big happens.”

                “Thank you Edward. For everything.” He shakes his head.

                “No need to thank me. Goodnight.” He slips away and I get Tris inside. She’s barely taking any of her own weight at this point, and I have to carry her to the bed. I get the weapon out of her waistband, and ease off her boots, the scarf she wrapped around her hair and her jacket. She makes no move to stop me, to protest. She helps a little, moving her arms and legs when I need it, but nothing further. I tuck her under the covers and stroke her hair back from her face.

                “Go to sleep,” I whisper to her. “We can’t do anything else tonight and you won’t be able to do anything at all if you collapse from exhaustion. Sleep. I’ll be right here.” She closes her eyes as obediently as a lamb, and my heart aches to see it. This docile, submissive Tris is not my Tris. I want the fire back in her eyes, the fight back in her stance. For now, I hold her hand until her breathing has levelled out and she’s sleeping quietly.

 

It’s a long time before I can sleep. I sit at the table and stare at the flickering flame in the lamp standing on the table. Oil lamp, perhaps. I run through the names over and over again – who talked? Who can’t we trust? I really can’t see it being anyone who came with us.

 

But – wasn’t there someone else? Or shouldn’t there have been someone else, at the tracks with us and on the train? I frown heavily. I’m almost certain there was. Tris mentioned someone else. I’m too tired for this. I run my hands over my face and they feel gritty against my skin. I wash hands and face and examine my reflection in the tiny square mirror over the sink. My jaw is black with stubble and the dark circles under my eyes look as dark as my tattoos. I pull off the bandana and neck scarf, replace my piercings. That looks more like me, although I want to enquire about a razor. I feel itchy. I’ll have to ask Edward in the morning. For now, I strip down to my underwear and crawl in next to Tris. She shifts in her sleep, and I pull her close to me, fitting my chest against her back and tucking her against me.

                “I love you,” I whisper into her hair. She shifts again, cuddling closer and I tighten my grip on her.

 

She feels so fragile in my arms, and I hate it. I want _my_ Tris back, my fiery warrior who isn’t afraid of anything, who sees a fight and wades in swinging. I want the Tris who might punch me, not the Tris who might break any second. This was never the Tris I wanted.  Even when I wanted to murder Peter for daring to lay a hand on her, the time I truly wanted to protect her, I didn’t want to fight her battles for her. I’d considered my attack on Peter to be my own personal revenge. I figured she’d still kick his ass. Even after she literally almost died, she didn’t need me to protect her. I find that I don’t know what to do with her now.

 

But she needs me now; she needs me to be the strength she can’t find. So I’ll be it, until she finds her life, and her fire is lit again. If all I can do is keep her going, then that’s what I’ll do. I’ll die for her if I have to. I wrap her up tighter, and let sleep drag my eyes closed, determined as I do that she’ll never sleep without me again. I’ll never let her go now. She’s all I’ve got.

 

 


	5. The Straight Razor Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fellow invader makes it to Factionless territory and Eric finds himself in a vulnerable position

_SEPTEMBER 29 TH – Factionless Territory_

 

When I wake up the next morning, she isn’t beside me anymore. I jolt upright, panic closing my throat, looking wildly around the room. As it swings back into focus and the sleep clears out of my eyes, I find her by the stove, looking at me with a raised eyebrow. Even as the relief sweeps over me, I push the covers back and get up at once, dressing as quickly as I can.

                “Good morning – or at least, I think it’s morning,” she says. She holds out a mug. “I did a bit of reconnaissance round the place. Found tea, but no coffee. Someone must have seen to it after we showed up yesterday. No food though.”

                “Edward said we should go to him when we woke up,” I say. My voice is the low growl of morning. I cough, and carry on. “Maybe he has breakfast.”

                “Maybe,” she agrees. “I’m sorry about last night,” she adds, gesturing at the bed. “I just – I was so tired.”

                “Stop apologising,” I say, pulling her into me with my free arm. “You’re allowed to be tired.”

                “I made a scene,” she says, snuggling in nonetheless. I’m beyond relieved that she’s letting me touch her again.

                “Rubbish. Everyone understood.” She tucks her face into my chest and sighs. I bend my head to kiss her hair and put my mug down on the table so I can wrap both arms around her. 

                “Still makes me feel like an idiot,” she says, before she pulls back and swallows more tea. “I feel dirty,” she continues, changing the subject.

                “Edward was telling me that there are showers,” I say. “Didn’t say where, so maybe we can ask when we go and see him.” I run my hand over my jaw and grimace as the stubble scrapes against the rough skin on my palms. “I could do with a shave.”

                “I like it,” she says, tilting her head to one side and smiling faintly at me. “Makes you look tough.”

                “Are you saying that I don’t look tough without it?” I demand. She smiles a little brighter now.

                “I’m saying you look like a sweet little angel,” she teases, but before I can return the tease the door crashes open behind us. Uriah in almost incoherent, he’s so out of breath.

                “Will,” he gasps. “He’s here, come, quickly.”

 

Tris rockets out the door after him with no shoes, jacket or weapon. Cursing under my breath, I snatch up our things and fly after them both. People are having to jump out of their way, because neither of them are exactly paying any attention to their surroundings. I have to call apologies even as I run after them. They go into Edward’s room and even as I manage to reach the ground level, I can hear Edward’s voice bellowing over the babble.

                “Everyone shut up!” I have to grin. Poor guy isn’t getting any peace at the moment. I skid to a halt outside the door and stalk in, banging it behind me like a gunshot. Between Edward’s shouting and my entrance, silence falls and Myra jumps up.

                “Eric, let me help you,” she says, taking Tris’ boots and jacket off me. She doesn’t try and take the weapons. “Are these Tris’?” she queries and I nod. Will is indeed sitting at Edward’s table, his face grey and bruised. Tris is kneeling beside him, their hands locked together as they stare at each other. She breaks the silence.

                “Christina?” Will’s face twists, and he shakes his head.

                “I couldn’t get her out,” he says hoarsely, his voice a hollow rasp. Edward finds a cup and fills it at the sink. When he puts it down in front of Will, he drains it in one go. Edward pours another, and he drains that too. “Thank you,” he gasps out. “I’ve drunk nothing for two days.” Edward raises his eyebrows, but refills the cup.

                “Sip it slowly,” he orders. “You’ll vomit otherwise, and I assure you that Myra won’t be happy if you chuck your guts all over this floor.”

                “I couldn’t get her out,” Will repeats, staring at Tris. “I tried, got this lot for my trouble, I had to run –“ he gestures at his face, the bruises stark against his pallor. He too is sporting stubble, which adds to his general unkemptness.

                “It’s not your fault,” Tris says at once, her hands back in his. “How did you get here?” she demands.

                “I went to the Hancock building,” he explains. “I broke in and a Factionless man found me lying in the cellar. He asked me who I was, so I told him your name, and Eric’s. He brought me here.”

                “How did you get out?” I ask, bluntly.

                “They were taking me to Jeanine. I think they figured because I hadn’t eaten or drunk anything that I’d be too weak to fight, so they didn’t cuff me. I knocked their heads together and ran for it before they’d even hit the floor. I went back, I was going to get Christina and Four, but the guards caught me. I had to fight my way out. Four looks bad, Eric, they carried him past my cell when they brought him in. Max must have really done a number on him, he looked worse than Tris after Peter beat the shit out of her.” She and I exchange looks. She nearly died after what Peter did to her. If Four looks worse, there’s a chance he might be dead before we can get a plan together. Myra leaps into the lull in conversation.

                “If you haven’t eaten, I can fix that at least,” she says. She pushes me towards the cupboards. “Porridge all round, I think. There’s some oats in the cupboard, Eric, will you get them down for me?” I do as I’m told. There’s a big bag of them, and she pours some into a big mixing bowl. Edward hands her a bottle of milk he’s produced from somewhere, and she pours this into a pan, stirring until it’s steaming gently. 

 

She makes up the porridge and puts bowls down in front of everyone at the table, before giving Edward his and taking her own. There’s nothing to have with it, but it’s good anyway. Tris cavaliers a little at the amount of milk, but is far too polite and far too Abnegation to say anything about it. Will is nearly asleep by the time he’s eaten his share, and I look to Edward.

                “Where can I take him?” I ask. Uriah answers.

                “Our room – Marlene’s and mine, I mean – is only three doors down from this one. Take him there, he can sleep there.” Between the three of us, Edward, Uriah and I get him into bed, and Myra slips in after we’ve got him undressed. Will’s already asleep. She sits down at the table and pulls a book from her pocket.

                “You people go back,” she says. “I’m no fighter. I can’t do anything to help with that side of your plan, but I can look after people and take care of them.” She’s calm about this, making no bones about it. “I’ll stay with him for now. I’ll bring him back when he’s awake, assuming he wakes up at all.” We leave her to it, and Tris looks up when we return. She and Marlene have washed the breakfast things, and Edward grins at them. 

                “You didn’t have to do that, but thank you.”

                “We’re your guests, and you’re feeding us and sheltering us. It’s the absolute minimum we could do,” Tris answers.

                “Speaking of being guests,” I say, looking up at Edward. “Might have to impose on you a little more – you mentioned showers.”

                “Yes, of course. I’ll show you and Tris there. Do you need a shave?” he asks me, eyes fixed on my jaw.

                “If there’s a razor going around, I would appreciate it.”

                “I’ll see what I can scare up for you,” he says, standing. “Marlene, you want to wash too?”

                “No, I showered when I got up,” she says. “So did Uriah – although he could do with a shave.”  

                “I think I might grow a beard,” Uriah himself says, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully. “So I’ll pass on the shave.” Edward grins.

                “Alright. Well, make yourselves at home, and I’ll take these two to the showers and then go on a razor hunt for those of us who do like a shave.”

 

He escorts us to the end of the row of doors and gestures. Two doors side by side give evidence of being some kind of bathroom facility.

                “Showers,” he says, grinning. “Not fancy but the pressure isn’t bad and the water’s hot. Sinks in there too, with mirrors. I’ll find you both some spare gear to wear and there’s towels in there. Eric, I’ll do what I can about a shaving kit but I should warn you, it’ll be a straight razor. If you don’t know how to use one, come back to us and I’ll show you.”

 

Tris ducks into her own shower room and I go into mine. There are towels – threadbare, but perfectly clean and serviceable. I’m surprised again by the extent of the facilities here. You’d never think that they live so well when you see them on the street. Edward was right about the shower – hardly top of the line. A few tiles are cracked and the shower head is a little bit closer to rusty than metal, but it’s hot, clean water. I wonder where they’ve piped it from.

 

I shower, and as I’m getting out the door opens. Edward grins at me, seemingly unperturbed by seeing me with just a towel around my waist. He glances at me and his smile widens.

                “I see why Tris likes you,” he says, and I try and keep my cool. “I found you a shaving set, but it is a straight razor,” he continues, holding it up for my inspection. Thing looks lethal, the long blade glinting in the light. “I assume from your rather nervous expression that you have not used one before and are concerned that you’ll wind up slicing through your neck. Oh, and spare clothes,” he adds, producing a bundle from under his arm. “So get dry, get dressed, dump your worn things in that basket, come back to my room – bring a towel - and I’ll show you how to use it.” He’s gone before I can ask if Tris is finished, and I shrug. I follow his instructions, but when I get back to Edward’s room, there’s no sign of Tris. I don’t even get my mouth open on the question before Marlene speaks.

                “She’s still showering,” she tells me. “I think she’s struggling with getting all the dirt out of all that hair.” I nod. Edward has poured water into a bowl and is holding the straight razor with a positively evil smirk.

                “Sit here,” he instructs, gesturing at a chair he’s placed by the sink. “Tip your head back and for God’s sake don’t make any sudden movements.”

                “Can’t you just tell me what to do?”

                “Not unless you want the razor rash to end all razor rashes.” I sigh and sit down, tipping my head back as instructed, voluntarily offering my throat to a man with a very sharp blade. 


	6. Edward's Democracy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edward reveals startling things about the Factionless and Tris shares her own secret with her friends.

_SEPTEMBER 29 TH – Factionless Territory_

 

Edward has painted the lower half of my face with a thick white foam that smells a little sharp. Mind you, maybe that’s just because it feels like he got half of it up my nose. He takes the razor to my throat and I can’t help tensing. He laughs.      

                “Eric, believe me – if I was planning on killing you, I would not do it in a room where Tris could enter at any second.” He draws the blade up the line of my throat, finishing at my jaw. The scrape of it sounds loud in the room, and I hear a muffled snort from Uriah.

                “I am definitely growing a beard,” he observes. “No way am I letting something that sharp near my vocal cords.”

                “Yes, because you not being able to talk would be _such_ a loss,” Marlene snarks at him. Edward just keeps drawing the razor up and over my throat, before starting on my cheeks.

                “The trick with this is to go against the grain where you can,” he tells me. The razor moves to my nose and starts on my upper lip. “I find it gets more hair in the single stroke. And to take your time with it. Hands slipping will result in you slicing open your own face.”

                “That’s a great comfort,” I say, while trying not to move my lips. He finishes with a flourish and throws the towel onto my face.

                “There you are,” he says. “Give it a wipe; wash your face if you like.” I do and when I’m emerging from the towel, Tris comes in.

 

She’s cut her hair. Not a great deal, just to her shoulders instead of the bottom of her ribs. She’s given herself a fringe too, resting just on her eyebrows. The difference it makes to her is astonishing.

                “What have you done?” I ask, touching it gently.

                “Thought changing my appearance might be a good idea,” she says. “And I had no idea what a difference a fringe would make.”

                “It’s good,” Marlene says, nodding at her approvingly. “If you were just seen in passing, I’d be prepared to bet they wouldn’t realise it was you.”

                “It won’t hold up for long,” Tris says, bumping down into a chair. “But it’ll do in a pinch – although I hope we don’t find ourselves in one. You’ve shaved,” she says to me.

                “Edward shaved me,” I correct. Edward grins and waves the straight razor at her.

                “Your boy here doesn’t know how to use a straight razor.”

                “That thing looks fucking lethal,” she says, eyeing it. “I’m not surprised.” She sighs and sits back. “So – what’s the plan?” she asks. Edward looks at me and I shrug.

                “She was never going to kick back for a couple of days, was she?” I ask him and he grins. Edward takes the chair, and I sit down next to Tris.

                “Right. We should, first and foremost, establish what you want to do.”

                “Break back into Erudite, free Christina and Four, take Jeanine prisoner, find my parents and beat the shit out of my brother,” Tris says at once.

                “So not much then,” Uriah says, grinning. “I think we learnt from last time that storming Erudite is not easy. If that’s our plan again, we need to spend a lot more time on it. Freeing Christina and Four, and Tris’ parents, is obviously a priority, but there’s also Dauntless to consider. It’s pretty obvious that Jeanine and Max have refreshed the control serum. There’s no way that they’re acting of their own free will. We should also try and find out what’s happened to Tori, Bud, Zeke and Lynn.”

                “I have people looking for them,” Edward states. “They have descriptions, and they know to bring them to me if they turn up or if they find out where they are.”

                “Actually, I have a question,” Tris says suddenly, looking at Edward. “Please explain to me how and why you’re talking as a leader.” Edward looks sheepish.

                “I am some kind of leader. When the Factionless found out that I left Dauntless because I wouldn’t let Myra go alone, instead of failing their initiation, I was called to – well, the Factionless have a kind of council, instead of a specific leader. I met with them. They admired what I did and since then, people have just kind of – listened to me, I guess. I don’t make any decisions, everything big in this world is voted on – by everyone. But yes, I can give some instructions and they do get followed.”

                “You’ve created a democracy.” Edward shrugs at me.

                “It worked once,” he says. “In History, they taught us that when this city was part of a wider country of cities, they elected their leaders. So yes, this is a democracy. But this is not about me, except what I can do to help.”

                “Is this how all the Factionless feel?”

                “I see no point in lying to you,” Edward says, looking round at the four of us. “No, not everyone thinks we should help you. There is a group that thinks that we should let the Factions wipe each other out – and while I don’t agree with them, I do understand why they feel that way. The Faction system has relegated us to the lowest rank of society, and kept us down. People have died because they think we’re less than them. So I understand the emotions driving them on it. However, they are in the minority. Jeanine made a very, very big mistake in attacking Abnegation. And when she arrested your mother – well, she fucked it up big time.” Tris smiles at that.

                “If we came up with a workable plan, would the Factionless fight with us?” Uriah asks. “Or would they stand neutral – or work against us?”

                “I honestly couldn’t say. I really don’t think that you’d be actively opposed,” Edward says, folding his hands before him on the table. “Not when your plan is to take out Erudite. I would say that your worst case scenario, we’d stand neutral, and not take any sides at all.”

                “I assume we’d need to put that sort of thing to a vote?” Marlene asks.

                “Absolutely. And ultimately, it might come down to personal choice – the council might say that each individual can choose what to do. Some may then fight with you. Some may not. In fact, I would guess that that would be the most likely outcome.”

                “Can we meet the council?” Tris asks.

                “I would imagine you’ll be summoned very soon,” Edward answers. “They want to meet Natalie Prior’s daughter – have done since the word got out about what you’d done.” Tris pulls a face.

                “I don’t want or need any special treatment, or any notice taken of me,” she says. “This is not about me.” I cover her hand in mine and smile gently at her.

                “You might not want it, but we may be able to use it to our advantage,” I say gently. “You just being you might help us. We can’t fight Erudite with just the four of us, Edward, and Will. If we are to move against Jeanine in open war, we have to have the numbers. We have to have support behind us and we have to have escape routes, safe havens and a back-up plan.”

                “You should start by establishing what went wrong last time, and how it went wrong,” Edward says. “Because if you know that, you can start thinking tactically. You’re fighting a people who are intelligent by definition – they will second guess you and they will be able to out-think you.”

                “We have to be able to play against their strengths,” Tris muses aloud. “We have to get to know Erudite – properly, I mean. So what you can tell us, Edward, and Eric and Will, is going to be valuable information. We have to learn how they think, so we can guess what they will do in response to what we do. We play on their strengths and we exploit their weaknesses. That’s how you beat a Faction who ultimately value knowledge.” Edward frowns at her.

                “You sound pretty Erudite yourself.” Tris’ chin goes up and her eyes flash.

                “I’m Divergent,” she says bluntly. The word drops between us like a stone, clattering to a noisy stop on the table. Uriah looks at her with dawning wonder, Marlene with sudden fear.

                “Oh, so we’re telling people that?” I ask, smiling slightly.

                “I trust these people,” she answers. “And I think they all three know that I am fully capable of hunting them down if they talk.” She says this with a sweet smile that doesn’t disguise that her eyes have turned to cold steel. “And they may as well know,” she continues. “Sooner or later, Jeanine will make her stand against people like me and I’ll be doubly hunted. It’s fair and reasonable to assume that Max will find out about me – my test result was entered manually and I had three damn fears in that fear simulation. Then you added three and that will leave a trace in the system. It will be extremely obvious that I am not quite right and Jeanine will be able to figure out what it is that’s off about me. As far as I am concerned, the more people who I tell, the more power I have over the information.”

 

Up until this moment, I loved her; I loved her with my entire heart. But there was always something she was holding back, always something I couldn’t reach. I felt like she’d put a part of herself behind clouded glass, and I could never quite see it. But now, with her sitting straight and proud in her chair, her head well up and her eyes flashing, I realise that she’s been holding back her real self – the proud, passionate woman who will literally die to be allowed to live as she should: free. Her secrets have kept her locked away for too long and now she’s freeing herself by refusing to hide it. I loved her, but seeing her like this, I realise I may as well have fallen for her shadow. This is a woman who I drown in awe for: fiery, determined, brave and strong. This is a woman I would literally die for.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're ticking along nicely here, and I'm working ahead of schedule, which is always good!
> 
> Feedback is of course a lovely thing to get and comments and kudos are almost as much fun as writing the story! So please do feel free to let me know how you're liking the sequel thus far :)


	7. Friends Are Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good news comes of members of the rebellion, and a sudden arrival jars the mood...

_SEPTEMBER 29 TH – Factionless Territory_

 

By the time Will wakes up at nearly twelve o’clock, we’ve done very little at beginning on a plan. Mostly, we’ve argued about the pros and cons of a full-frontal assault on Erudite – Uriah for it, Tris against – and I’ve watched how Marlene quietly checks some of Uriah’s wilder impulses. I realise that that’s what Tris and I lack – we don’t check each other. We just argue and fight and push each other to greater and greater heights until one of us has the sense to realise we’re being stupid and calms down. Or until one of us snaps and starts kissing the other.

 

Surely that can’t be healthy. When I look at Edward and Myra, and how they interact together, barely even needing to speak – I think about how she and I have to explain everything before one of us goes off all half-cocked and raging mad. I look at Uriah and Marlene and see their easy patter, their quick repartee with one another – and I think of how she and I prod and poke and argue. I look at how Myra wraps her arms around Edward from behind and embraces him, and he puts a hand over hers without even thinking about it – and I think of how she’d probably flip me over her shoulder out of shock if I did the same to her, or indeed if she did it to me. I look at how Marlene puts her feet into Uriah’s lap and he takes one foot in his hands and automatically starts to massage it – and I realise that I’ve never touched her unless it’s in passion or in outright fear. When we’re no further forward in our plans than we were this morning, and Tris is starting to lose her patience, Edward stands abruptly.

                “Tris, after you and Eric went off to bed last night, I managed to track down Luke – the man your mother helped. He’d very much like to meet you.” She jolts to her feet and I look up from where I’m perched on the end of Edward’s bed.

                “Want me to come too?” She hesitates, but shakes her head.

                “No, that’s fine,” she says. “Not this time, anyway – I want to see him alone.” I nod, and she smiles faintly at me before she lets Edward lead her out the door. I sigh, and Myra looks up from her position against the headboard. She scoots forward to perch beside me. Uriah, Marlene and Will are still gathered around the table, and have apparently noticed nothing.

                “What’s wrong?” she asks me softly. I shake my head slightly.

                “Nothing,” I answer.

                “Nonsense,” she says, calmly. “Something’s bothering you.” I scrub my hand through my hair and grimace. “I can guess,” she says, so quietly I have to strain to hear her.

                “No you can’t,” I contradict. She smiles at me.

                “Can’t I? So I’m wrong about Tris going without you is bothering you? And that you’re a bit bothered by her not kissing you goodbye?” I squint at her.

                “So you can guess,” I mutter, picking at a hangnail.

                “I wouldn’t worry about that,” she says, with some confidence.

                “Wouldn’t you?” I’m aware that I sound moody, but Myra seems entirely unperturbed by my foul mood.           

                “No. And shall I explain why?”

                “By all means.”

                “Because she’s madly in love with you,” Myra says, calmly. I gape at her. “She is. Don’t you see how she is? She has one eye on you always, even when she’s in deep conversation with someone. When you sit beside each other – or even opposite each other – she reacts to your movements with movements of her own. You clench a fist; she spreads hers out because she wants to touch your hand. You turn your head; she moves her eyes to see what’s attracted you. You scowl; she drums her fingers on the table because she wants to kiss it away. You laugh; she looks down and smiles because she wants to touch your arm. You brush your knee against hers, she glances down and her hands move because she wants to touch you.” I positively gape at her this time.

                “Then why doesn’t she just touch me?” I ask. “As you’re so smart, apparently.” Myra gives me a very self-satisfied smirk.

                “Really, Eric. She grew up in _Abnegation_. She would never have reached out and just touched you just to touch you.”

                “She’s over all that,” I say, dismissively.

                “No she isn’t. And if you don’t believe me, Eric, just think about this – who touches who first?” She doesn’t give me a chance to answer, just goes over to the stove. She’s soon busy mixing dry ingredients together in a bowl, while Marlene offers her help and Will and Uriah are continuing a muffled conversation.

 

She’s right. I can’t believe I didn’t see it. I always touch her first; it is a very, very rare thing that she touches me first. I am the one to reach out and take her hand, I am the one to kiss her, and I am the one to pull her close. She’s always willing; she’s always ready to go into my arms – if I incite it. And I do catch her looking at me, as if she’d like to say something but doesn’t quite dare. Abnegation is not her whole heart, but it’s certainly a large part of it. They consider that physical contact is a huge deal, and should never be done uninvited lest it make the recipient uncomfortable. I give a quiet groan and bury my face in my hands. I’d never even thought of it like that.

                “You OK over there, Eric?” Uriah asks. I look up, belatedly remembering that I am not alone here. Will is pale still, but even he looks interested.

                “Fine,” I mutter. “Just came to a – realisation. What have you two been talking about?” Will actually manages a faint smile.

                “You’re as bad as Tris. She doesn’t pay any attention when she’s thinking about you, either.”

                “Who said I was thinking about Tris?” I counter, but there’s no heat in it.

                “Expression on your face. She’s looked like that enough times for me to recognise it. It’s that unique mixture of exasperation and all-consuming, sickening adoration.”

                “Adoration,” I repeat, with a derisive snort.

                “Yes, adoration,” Uriah continues for Will. “Unlikely, given what a little hellcat she can be on occasion, especially when she’s riled, but yes. She looks at you like you’re the greatest thing she ever saw, like just looking at you can heal wounds or something equally ridiculous.”

                “She does not,” I bluster.

                “Of course she does,” Myra breaks in now, smiling at us. “She looks at you the way you look at her – and, just like she’s never looking at you when you’re gazing at her, you’re never looking at her either.” Marlene gives a poorly-smothered hoot of laughter, which sets off Uriah, and I glare at them.

                “Now, children,” Myra says reprovingly, starting to set bowls on the table. “Don’t be horrible to him.”

                “We’re not,” Marlene protests. “It’s just – well, it is fairly amusing, you know? You’re the big, scary instructor we were all told to be polite to. And I remember when you became one of the Faction leaders, and your temper was legendary. Then along comes Tris Prior, dressed in Abnegation grey and you go down before her like a – like rocks into the Chasm. You both spend a few weeks circling each other like caged dogs, snapping at each other’s heels. She pushes you over the edge more than once, but you keep pushing back until _she_ blows up too and you both wind up having a shouting match in the middle of the dining hall. She spends half her time muttering angrily about you, you spend most of your time in her presence grinding your teeth and glowering. You ignore each other for a while, while she organises her thoughts in to some semblance of order and then all of a sudden, you both turn up to breakfast in the same _disgustingly_ cheerful mood despite arriving separately.” While Marlene rattles this off, Myra has dished up soup and handed out spoons. The faint smell of baking bread is starting to leak into the room. “It was rather obvious what had happened. Then, if you please, she abandons her Abnegation values to start kissing you in the dining hall and you abandon your big bad leader persona to start whistling in the corridors. You have to admit, you do each other a lot of good.” I’m so busy staring at her in shock that I physically jump when Myra nudges my hand.

                “Eat your soup, Eric,” she says. “Your glorious revolution will not last long nor will it be very successful if you’re starving for most of it.” I take up my spoon automatically, and obediently eat a few bites. Mercifully, they seem to think that I’ve been lectured enough, and Marlene turns the conversation onto the soup, asking what Myra put in it, where Factionless get these ingredients from, and if it’s hard cooking. We’re just finishing up, and Myra is cutting fresh-baked bread when the door opens and Tris and Edward enter. Tris has a beaming smile on her face, and Edward too looks pleased.

                “News?” Myra asks, looking up.

                “The best, under the circumstances,” Edward says. “Luke has been making his own strides in finding out where your friends are. We’ve had word that some of them, at least, are safe.”

                “Which?” Uriah demands.           

                “Zeke and Tori made it to Candor,” Tris says, sitting down beside me. “They’ve offered them shelter – and amnesty.” Uriah’s shoulders slump in relief and Marlene beams, taking his hand. “It does mean that we can’t contact them just yet, because they’re essentially claiming sanctuary at Candor, but we do know they’re safe.”

                “I told you Zeke would have got out,” she says, her smile wider than even Tris’.

                “And that isn’t all,” Tris continues, her eyes shining. “Lynn has resurfaced and Luke has gone to fetch her from the meeting point at the old Hancock building.” Marlene and Uriah can’t smile any wider, but they embrace hard before separating. Will leans forward.

                “Christina?” he asks, and Tris’ smile falls.

                “I’m sorry, Will. We know she’s still alive, but that’s all. We may know more when Lynn gets here, depending on where she’s been. Four is too – still alive, I mean. And there’s still no word at all about Bud, unfortunately.”

                “You’re forgetting about who guaranteed Zeke and Tori Candor protection,” Edward prompts, grinning at her. Tris looks contrite.

                “Oh, I forgot!” She turns to Will. “The rumour we heard was that a young woman named Cara spoke for them.” Will’s head jerks up, so evidently the name means something to him.

                “Cara?” he whispers. Tris nods.

                “Yes, Cara. The Candor that Luke overheard discussing recent events was quite clear that that was the name.” Will smiles for the first time since he got back. It’s a shadow of its former self, but it is a smile, and Tris looks at him thoughtfully.

                “We are going to get her out,” she says. “Look at me, Will.” He does so, and despite his smile, his eyes are glittering with tears. “We will get her out of there, and she will be alive. I swear.” He nods, his head going back down. Myra moves towards him, putting her arm around his shoulders. Marlene does too, and Uriah reaches for his knee. Tris is biting her lip, and I reach out for her. She jumps slightly when my hand covers hers, looking up at me. She turns her hand over beneath mine, gripping it tightly.

 

Lynn’s arrival is dramatic, to say the least. Her first action is to slam Tris against the nearest convenient wall and punch her in the face.


	8. Comfort Sought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eric tries to get to the bottom of Tris' blame complex.

_SEPTEMBER 29 TH – Factionless Territory_

 

Marlene is holding a cold cloth to Tris’ nose, ignoring the blood dripping steadily down her hand. Lynn is in the chair Uriah dragged her into and Will is literally holding me into my own.

                “Let me go,” I spit at him.

                “I’ll let you up when you’ve calmed down,” he responds.

                “Don’t let him up,” Tris says, her voice muffled by the cloth.

                “I wasn’t going to,” Will says, calmly. “Honestly, you two are as bad as each other,” he says, sounding vaguely amused.

                “I didn’t do anything,” Tris points out, now batting Marlene away. “I think it’s stopped bleeding,” she says, removing the cloth cautiously.

                “It has,” Marlene answers, looking at it closely. “And luckily for you, I don’t think it’s broken. Now, if we’re all cool, calm and sensible, I think that Lynn has some explaining to do.”

                “She bloody well deserved it, I’m not apologising –“

                “I did not ask you to apologise,” Marlene interrupts. “I said you had some explaining to do.”

                “You’re damn fucking right she does,” I snarl. “Swing for me if you want to start swinging for people, you little –“

                “Eric,” Tris snaps, her voice steely. I look over at her and she’s fixing me with a cool look. “We’ve spoken about you trying to fight my battles for me,” she continues, quieter now. I nod, and look up at Will.

                “I’m not going to do anything,” I tell him. He raises his eyebrows.

                “It’s alright, Will,” Tris says. “He’ll deal with me if he does anything.” Will lets go and I adjust my jacket. Lynn is staring at her hands.

                “Lynn?” Marlene prompts, perhaps seeing that I intend to stay where I am. Lynn sighs.

                “Your stupid, ridiculous, half-baked plan got Al killed. It got people caught. It was never going to fucking work. And yet you, as per, have escaped unscathed.” Tris raises an eyebrow and holds up her bandaged hands. “Big deal,” Lynn mutters moodily, picking at a bit of the table. “You know she’s probably torturing your friends, right?”

                “I know that,” Tris says. “And you have every right to be angry with me.” Lynn blinks a bit at that. Tris gives her a sad smile. “Don’t you think I know it was a shit plan? Don’t you think I’ve spent every single second since it went to hell in a hand-cart thinking about why? Don’t you think I’ve spent every second blaming myself for his death, and for the fact that she might well be doing horrible things to my parents and my friends? I put you all at risk, all of you – and you have the right to be angry.”

                “Like hell you do,” I say furiously. “Tris didn’t put a fucking gun to your head and force you to come along with us, did she? You were _told_ you didn’t have to come, we told you that anyone who didn’t want to come didn’t have to. You could have just not shown up at the tracks that morning. And it was as much my plan, mine and Four’s, as it was hers so if you want to go a round with her, you’ll have to go one with me too.”

                “I was the first to suggest it, Eric,” Tris points out. “So the first blame lies with me.”

                “And you would never have had to suggest it if I’d had more balls to start with.”

                “This is not the time,” Edward says. He speaks quietly, but there is enough force in his voice to stop Tris in her tracks, even as she’s opening her mouth to contradict me. I have got to do something about this goddamned habit of blaming herself for everything. “What happened at Erudite could not be foreseen. From what Uriah and Marlene told me of your plan before you both arrived here, the plan was sound enough. Someone obviously talked, and if there is blame to be placed in Al’s death, it is at their door – neither of yours. Your priority now should be to work together. Now, I think I can get at least some of you into Candor to regroup with your friends who have taken shelter there. You should decide, amongst yourselves, who would like to go.” He sits back, and Lynn glowers at him.

                “Who the hell put you in charge?” she demands.             

                “I did,” he answers calmly. “When you stormed in here and punched Tris in the face. She did _not_ deserve that, whatever she may say. If you can’t work together, you may as well leave at once – the Factionless are sheltering you as a courtesy, nothing more. If you disrupt the peace of this world, our world, I cannot allow you to stay.” Lynn stares at him for a long time, before she nods. She glances at Tris.

                “I’m sorry,” she says. “He’s right. I’m just – I’m just so fucking angry.” Tris nods.

                “We’ll forget it,” she says. “Nobody will mention it again.”

                “I think emotions may be running high enough for today,” Myra says, standing up. “I would recommend that you all go back to your own quarters for tonight, and we’ll regroup in the morning.” Like Edward, she speaks perfectly calmly, but there’s no room to argue in her tones. “Will, Lynn, I’m afraid that for now you’ll have to share a room. I’ll take you.”

 

Tris and I go back upstairs, and I snap the lights on as we enter. She crosses immediately to the bed, lying down on it and gazing up at the rough rock of the ceiling.

                “We need to talk,” I say, trying to keep my tone even.

                “Oh, God,” she says, sighing. “Alright then, but come and lie down with me.” I’m more than happy to go along with that, so I crawl onto the bed with her. She turns onto her side and looks at me, and I stroke a strand of her newly-short hair back from her cheek. She smiles faintly at me. “I suppose you’re going to lecture me about blaming myself.”     

                “Not lecture,” I say. “I want to try and understand why you keep doing it.”

                “Because it was my plan, first and foremost. And you can say that you should have had more balls to start with, but it was still my plan. Look at who – and what – I am. That serum would never have worked on me. I could have hidden somewhere, waited for all of it to be over, then sat on the guilt for the rest of my life. I could have gone along with everyone for as long as possible, and hoped to be able to warn my parents in enough time to make a difference. I could have kept it between you and I, gone for Max directly and hang the consequences. There are a lot of other things I could have done without dragging my friends into a dangerously ill-conceived plan.”

                “And when, exactly, did you think of these things?” I ask her. She turns her head back to the ceiling. “You always look away from me when you’re about to lie to me.” She flushes.

                “You know when,” she mutters, now picking at the lint on the blanket beneath us. “When we escaped the city.”

                “Exactly,” I say, with empathetically. “After it was all over. Hindsight is always in 20/20 vision, Tris.”

                “But if I could think of them then, I could have thought of them before,” she says, looking me in the eyes this time. She really believes this.

                “God, you’re so stubborn,” I say. I put my hand on her neck, stroking her jaw with my thumb. “Tris, you know, deep down, that those plans wouldn’t have been any more successful than ours was. You would never have sat on the guilt of hiding away during such a thing – it would have driven you mad. You would have been caught long before you could warn your parents. If we had gone after Max, his sudden and abrupt disappearance would have been suspicious to say the least, and Jeanine would have turned up at Dauntless at once. And that’s just off the top of my head. No, don’t you turn away from me.” She stops trying to turn at once. “Nobody blames you,” I say, my voice forceful now. “Not even Lynn, despite what she said and did today. She’s just angry, probably exhausted and likely to be traumatised as well. Come morning, she’ll be fine. I know her; I’ve known her for a few years now. She’s the type to lash out when she’s angry.”

                “Al’s dead,” she whispers.

                “Yes, he is. Do you think he would blame you?” She doesn’t answer that, and I know it’s because she knows he wouldn’t. “Exactly. I wish you wouldn’t keep all this inside, Tris. I want to know when stuff is bothering you. I want to help when it’s getting too big to carry by yourself, because that’s what you do when you love each other. You don’t carry their burdens for them, but you help them with it. You stand behind them when they try to fight something bigger than themselves. You don’t let them drown in some ridiculous pit of self-imposed guilt.”

                “It isn’t ridiculous,” she retorts.

                “Yes it is,” I say flatly. She tries to glare. I counter it by pulling her closer to me and kissing her firmly.

 

She gives a little gasp under my lips, but immediately kisses back. She pulls me closer, too, dragging me in with a curious kind of desperation. I have no objections to this at all, and seize the opportunity to take her hip in hand and crush her against me. She moves quickly, and drags me on top of her slight frame, her legs parting to cradle my hips in hers. That gives me pause alright, and I stop kissing her.

                “Tris?” I query. There’s a very, very slight wobble to my voice. We’ve had some very intense kisses before this – our first springs to mind, when I found myself hard as a rock and her pressing forward to encourage me. But this – this is something different. Lying on top of her, in a bed no less – that is intimate and no mistake.

                “Kiss me,” she insists, pulling me back down.

 

God knows there was a time when I would have happily killed a man to be in this position, to have her apparently willing underneath me, to feel her hips pressing upwards to find my own. But this feels wrong; there is something too desperate about her kiss, too frantic to be right. It takes everything in me, everything that makes me a good man despite my many faults and sins, to push myself off her and sit on the edge of the bed with my back to her. My hands are shaking with the effort, the hormonal part of me screaming at me to go back, to throw her down and tear her clothes off to let me worship all that gorgeous skin. I hear a rustle behind me, and the bed directly behind me sinks a little as she puts a hand on my shoulder.

                “What’s wrong?” she asks softly.

                “I – I can’t. And believe me, I want to. God, Tris, the things I want to do to you, you have no idea – but I can’t. I don’t want the first time I make love to you to be some desperate, guilt-fuelled fuck that you think will help you feel better.”

                “It will,” she says, but there’s absolutely no fight in her voice.

                “It would, I expect,” I answer, covering her hand with mine. “For now, anyway. But you would regret it in the morning and I couldn’t bear it either.”

                “So you aren’t saying no?”          

                “I’m not saying no. I’m saying not now. I want the first time we make love to be good. Not just because it would be your first time either, but because it would be _our_ first time, and I don’t want you to look back on it with even a hint of regret.” She’s quiet behind me, and I am briefly afraid that I’ve offended her. That doubt is dispelled when she wraps her arms around me from behind and rests her head on my shoulder. She’s kneeling then, not sitting. Her body is warm against me.

                “Thank you,” she breathes.

                “You don’t have to thank me for showing you basic consideration,” I retort, but like her voice earlier, there’s no heat to it.

                “Yes,” she contradicts. “I do.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another day, another two chapters!
> 
> Hope all are enjoying the story, and remember that any feedback is always welcome and will help me :)


	9. The Declaration of War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tris suggests an unusual strategy, and a plan is proposed.

_SEPTEMBER 30 TH – Factionless Territory_

When I wake up the next morning, I find that she’s done something so unutterably adorable, I think I might actually explode with affection. At some point in the night, she must have wriggled herself off her pillow. She’s holding it in her arms, her face buried in it and her hair is sticking up every which way. She looks so carefree in her sleep, the line between her brows gone and all the worry smoothed out. I kiss her head gently and manage to crawl out of bed without waking her. I put the kettle on the stove and set about making tea for us. Just as it starts to whistle, I hear the bed creak behind me and turn to find her sitting up, blinking sleep out of her eyes.

                “Morning,” she says, sleepily.

                “Good morning, beautiful.” She smiles.

                “Don’t be daft,” she answers, rolling out of bed. “I can feel my hair sticking up.” I let it go and she does her best with a brush that has several bristles missing. I put a cup of tea in front of her when she sits at the table and she wraps her hands around it gratefully.

                “Thanks,” she says. “So, I’ve been thinking.”

                “Always dangerous,” I say, and she huffs out a laugh.

                “Don’t be smart,” she reproves. “And it’s not about what went wrong and who betrayed us – although that’s been bugging me too,” she says, frowning now. “There was meant to be someone else at the tracks but I can’t remember who and it’s really beginning to irritate me, but for now, it isn’t about that. No, I’ve been thinking about what to do from here. When I went to meet Luke yesterday, he was eager to help. He, and several others, want to fight. We’ve accepted their hospitality, they’ve been good enough to shelter us, and I think we should let them fight. God knows we need the numbers. Dauntless is out, so we can’t go there. But I think we’ve gone about this the wrong way.”

                “How so?” I ask, curiously.

                “We’ve been far too Dauntless,” she answers. “Think about it – storming Erudite? That’s very Dauntless. We need to start thinking differently. We need to start thinking how to beat a smart faction, and that means we need to second-guess their second-guesses. We need, in short, to think Divergent.”

                “Good plan, unless you consider that you’re the only Divergent.”

                “Don’t forget Four,” she reminds me. “You think he’s sat around waiting to be rescued? Of course he isn’t. And the best thing about Divergents? Jeanine doesn’t understand us one little bit. So we need to stop being so Dauntless about everything, because that’s what she’s going to expect. Edward pointed it out, didn’t he? That we were too Dauntless. We’ll have to do something thoroughly unexpected. And what would Jeanine not expect?”

                “For us to do nothing,” I answer, immediately.

                “Exactly. She would not expect us to do nothing.”

                “You’re suggesting that we do nothing?”

                “I am,” she answers, sipping her tea.

                “I’m completely lost,” I say, looking at her.

                “Come on,” she says, standing up. “Let’s go and see who we can round up. I think we’ll come back here – I feel bad constantly invading Edward and Myra’s space.”

 

So we gather everyone together, and Tris explains her whole too Dauntless/more Divergent thing to everyone. As I expected, her proposal that we do nothing doesn’t go down well. She lets everyone shout themselves hoarse, then turns to Edward in the first available silence.

                “Edward, since Eric and I got here, so since the 28th, what’s been happening?” Edward shrugs.

                “Jeanine is tearing the city apart, looking for you two.”

                “Anything else?”

                “Not as far as we know. And not to brag, but what we don’t know isn’t worth knowing.” Tris nods.

                “Exactly my point. Will, Eric, Edward, Myra – you four were Erudite. Is Jeanine going to be anticipating an attack?”

                “Absolutely,” Will says. “I heard some of the guards wondering when you’d rock up in a rescue mission.”

                “Exactly. Jeanine expected us to attack as soon as we could. She moved quickly too – she administered the control serum to Dauntless almost immediately, on the same day in fact. She did this because she knew that the first course of Dauntless action would be to rally the faction, so she removed that possibility. She suspected that at least some of those involved might flee the city but then understandably need to re-enter, so she had the fence switched off in the hope it would induce those in the dark to light up torches or fires. She then went after my parents, fully expecting that my first action as a Dauntless would be to storm in and demand their release. She locked up our friends, once again because she expected our first action would be to attempt to free them. She now holds them prisoner – and no offence, Will, but I don’t think you escaped. Weak or not, she should have had you cuffed and bound.” Will is nodding slowly.

                “No, you’re right,” he says, even as Marlene tries to contradict Tris’ assertion. “That wasn’t smart, was it? And she must have known I’d go back for Christina – I should not have got away from those guards. Oh, how did I not see it?”

                “You were being starved and deprived of liquids,” Tris points out. “That will affect anyone’s judgement. I wouldn’t imagine the others are receiving the same treatment. Jeanine’s probably planning this as she goes, thinking that if you appear with a story about being starved, we’ll assume she’s doing the same to all her prisoners. She therefore thinks such a story will provoke us into an attack, out of an outraged sense of justice. She releases you quietly, allowing you to escape because she will know you would attempt to come to us, wherever we were.”

                “She can’t know where we are though, can she?” Marlene asks, some alarm in her tones.

                “No, I doubt it. Even if whoever betrayed us to Max told them about Factionless being the back-up plan, she doesn’t know about all this,” Tris says, waving her hands vaguely. “Am I correct in thinking she believes the Factionless live in basements or on the streets, Edward?” He nods at once.

                “Yes. You people are the only Faction members ever to be down here – with the exception of Tris’ mother, of course. And anyway, she wouldn’t dare walk into Factionless territory.” He gives a slightly feral smile. “Erudite members who stray into our territory have an unfortunate habit of disappearing.”

                “I can’t say I approve,” Myra says, sliding her eyes to Edward. “But sometimes it is necessary.”

                “The morals of it are probably best left for later,” Tris says, although she too looks a bit shocked. “The point is, simply by not having acted for a mere two days; we’ve put her on the back foot. She will expect an attack, and she will expect it soon. The best thing we can do is do nothing. The more frustrated she gets, the more likely she is to make a mistake that we can exploit.”

                “But this is all supposition,” Lynn objects, speaking for the first time. “She might well be starving her prisoners. She might well be hurting people.”

                “I fully understand that,” Tris answers, quietly. “I know that everything I have said is conjecture. But if we storm Erudite again, we will fail again. Jeanine will be ready for us, she will by now have installed Dauntless guards, and whether they’re brainwashed or not, they’ll still be very dangerous. My proposal is that we get into Candor, first and foremost. We retrieve Tori and Zeke as a priority, or find a way to get them out of there completely. And when we have as much of the team back together as we can, we go back to Dauntless.”

                “Back to Dauntless?” Uriah splutters. “Have you gone completely insane?”

                “Not even slightly,” she says, calmly. “We break back into Dauntless, but we don’t do it from the front door, or even the rooftops. We come up from beneath it.” There’s a pause.

                “You’re saying we go underground,” I say, with dawning wonder.

                “That was another very useful piece of information Luke gave me. The passages of the Factionless lead all over the city – a very long time ago, it was a way for people to walk around without needing to brave the weather. Now they’re all but sealed off – once they were completely sealed off. But the Factionless have found a few key exits and reopened them. One of them is directly beneath Dauntless.” I turn to Edward, who immediately holds up his hands.

                “I don’t know why. The exit that’s open to Dauntless is the oldest open one – it was probably opened nearly fifty years ago, and nobody I’ve found to talk to knows why. It’s not unreasonable to suppose that it was opened for purely personal reasons – someone with a family member perhaps, who failed the Dauntless initiation, made Factionless but the person who did pass remained within the Faction. They wanted to keep in touch so found a way to do so discreetly.”

                “But that would mean they’d have to know about the entrance in the first place,” Uriah points out.

                “Not necessarily,” Edward says. “Might have stumbled on it by accident – maybe when the passages were originally sealed off, they did a shoddier job on that one? Either the person left in Dauntless or the person who ended up being made Factionless found it and figured out how to get it open.”

                “Regardless of who opened it and why they opened it, this works in our favour,” Tris says. “We can use it. In and out. They’ll never know how we did it and we could take weapons, ammunition, enough of both to put us a little bit ahead of the curve, especially as we can use said weapons and ammunition to arm any sympathetic Factionless.”

                “You’re going to start a war,” I whisper. She turns to me with a positively chilling smile. 

                “Jeanine started this war, Eric. But I am going to finish it.”

 


	10. Come Back To Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tris makes Eric a promise in the light of a plan he disapproves of.

_SEPTEMBER 30 TH – Factionless Territory_

Tris insists on being one of the people to go to Candor. I suppose that’s why we’re standing a foot apart, both with fists clenched, screaming at each other as the others look on.

                “For God’s sake, I will not stay locked down here while other people take risks!”

                “And I will not let you go off on some mad suicide mission just to allay your own guilt!”

                “Let me? _Let me_? You are not my fucking keeper, Eric!”

                “I’m not bloody trying to be, I’m trying to be the voice of reason!”

                “Well you’re failing!”

                “You haven’t got anything to prove!”

                “This was my idea, Eric, I won’t come up with the plans and then sit back and watch other people take the risk while I sit on my ass drinking tea!”

                “God above woman, you’re so fucking stubborn! I will not watch you die because you think you need to prove something.”

                “You aren’t going to watch anything, because you aren’t coming,” she snarls, her face scarlet with rage. I’m brought up short in time to hear Edward whisper to Uriah.

                “Are they always like this?”

                “What do you mean I’m not going?” I spit.

                “Jeanine will expect us to be together,” she answers, quieter now. “So we won’t be. I will go to Candor and you will stay here.”

                “And do what?” I rage, furious with her.

                “Find out where the other entrances are,” she snaps back. “Find out how we get into Dauntless, find out who might be willing to help us, find out something useful so we can save our friends!”

                “You do not get to tell me what to do, Tris, if I want to come with you I will and –“

                “And what? What, Eric? If you come with me, you won’t be giving what we have to do your full attention, will you?” she demands, running frustrated hands through her hair. “You’ll be too damn busy watching me, and I’ll be too busy watching you, and things will go to shit _very_ quickly.”

                “Alright, alright,” a voice snaps. Myra is standing up, glaring at us both. “That’s enough from the both of you. Sit down, calm down, and let’s talk about this.”

                “There’s nothing to talk about,” Tris snaps, sitting down anyway. “He’s not coming and that’s the end of it.”

                “It damn well is not the end of it, and you can’t stop me!”

                “Do you think this is easy for me?” she asks, slamming a hand into the table. “Because it isn’t, but we can’t stick to each other like glue all the bloody time!”

                “I don’t see why not,” I say, digging my heels well in.

                “Because that’s the sort of stupid shit that will get either one of us or one of our friends killed!” There’s a little silence at that, and I become aware that people are staring at us.

                “Well, apparently becoming Factionless was a bit of bummer,” Edward says, staring at us. “Is this what I’ve been missing?”            

                “They’re not normally this bad in public,” Will says, managing a faint smile. “Can’t speak for their private life.”

                “I just want to keep you safe,” I say in a low voice. She looks up at me, and she smiles.

                “I know. I know you do, but you can’t, OK? You can’t protect me forever. The best chance we have of this working is if we split up. And I know that’s going be hard, because I wouldn’t like it if it was you going, leaving me to sit and wait.”

                “When do we do this?” Edward asks.

                “We?” Myra asks.

                “I’ll go with her,” Edward says. “There are Candor things lying around, we can go in disguise, at nightfall.”

 

The rest of that awful, awful day goes by too quickly, as Tris and Edward discuss what to do and how to do it. Myra finds them Candor colours, and Edward finds a plan of the building. They plan exits and entrances, back up plans and worst case scenarios.

                “Worse case, we get caught and handed over to Jack Kang. I will take the truth serum if that’s the case,” Tris says. “We’ll have to hope it won’t work on me, so I can say we just wanted to see our friends and confirm that they were safe. Hopefully, just questioning me will be enough.”

                “Do we go armed?”

                “We can’t,” she says, biting her lip. “Weapons would be too obvious in these clothes – why are Candor things always so tight?”

                “So you can’t hide weapons,” Myra says, and gets a laugh. “All about the honesty, isn’t it? Eric, please, I implore you, stop hovering. Uriah and I are trying to cook and you’re getting in the way.”

                “Sorry,” I mutter, moving away from the sink. Uriah moves me bodily from the stove I’m now obstructing.

                “Stand there, if stand you must,” he orders, putting me by the bed. “Tris, can’t you do something about him?”

                “I’m his girlfriend,” Tris points out. “Not his mother.” Despite the severity of the situation, her public declaration of what I am to her makes me smile.

                “I just need something to do,” I point out, resuming wandering.

                “Tris, give him something to do,” Myra orders, pushing me away from the sink again. “Before I throttle him.” Tris laughs out loud at that idea and pulls me to the table, forcing me into a chair.

                “I need an Erudite boy,” she teases, smiling at me. “To list everything possible about Jeanine Matthews. Will never knew her all that well, so he can only tell us about her as a leader. I need you to do the personal stuff.”

                “Why?” I ask, picking up a pencil and paper anyway.

                “Because we need to know her weaknesses,” Tris says. “You can’t fight an enemy if you don’t know your enemy. All we know about her at the moment is that she’s ruthless, and frankly that doesn’t help us a bit. It just tells us more of the same.”

                “Can I have a kiss first?” I ask, grinning at her. She blushes, but kisses me anyway, and I smile at her.

 

I’m fully aware that the need to know about Jeanine is only part of her motivation for giving me this to do. But even so, it does help distract me and at least keeps me away from Myra, who was starting to look at me in a manner that suggested she would have happily knocked me out, if not actually throttled me. She might not be Dauntless, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t downright terrifying on occasion.

 

Dinner comes and goes, and any levity that may have existed during the day is dying rapidly. Edward stands up when the meal is over.

                “We’ll give you and Tris a few minutes, I think. Tris, come down to us when you’re ready to leave.” Tris nods, and when they’ve all filed out, picks up the Candor things. I wash up while she changes, and jump physically when her arms wrap around my waist from behind. It’s the first time she’s touched me unprompted. I turn in her arms and wrap her up tight.

                “Still planning to knock me on the head and go yourself?” she whispers, and I snort a laugh.

                “How did you know?” I ask.

                “Because I know you. And I know what I’d be thinking and wanting to do, if it was you going and not me.”

                “I’d do it in a heartbeat if you were any other girl,” I say. “The only reason I won’t is because I know that when I got back, you’d be waiting for me.”

                “Damn right I would be,” she says, bending her head back to look at me. “You’d be in serious trouble. But don’t worry, Eric. I am going to come home to you and I am going to be OK.”

                “If you were any other girl, I wouldn’t believe that for a single second. But because it’s you, and I know you can’t lie to save your damn life – I believe you.” I kiss her then, and she sighs, her arms looping around my neck and fingers dipping into my hair. It’s getting longer, and I find I like the way it feels when it slips through her fingers.

 

When we break apart, her face is flushed and her lips are swollen. There’s something in her eyes too, and I find the heat there matches the heat in my stomach. She stays in my arms and her hands are framing my face as she stares at me.

                “If this goes wrong,” she suddenly mutters fiercely. “If this all goes to hell, and I don’t come back to you, I need you to know that I love you. I need you to know that I’ve been happier with you than I ever have before and if I have any regrets it’s that we didn’t – that I didn’t know you better.” I know what she’s trying to say – the heat in her eyes tells me, the blush staining her cheeks crimson.

                “When you get back – when, Tris, not if – when you get back, we will,” I say. “I’ll take you to bed and I’ll love you until you forget everything but me.” She nods, and presses her lips back to mine.

 

We don’t say more, because what more could we say? When she and Edward are ready to leave, I pull her in for one last kiss. Edward is holding Myra close and whispering something to her. She’s very pale when they break apart, but nods and smiles bravely.

                “Come back to me,” I say to Tris. “Or else.” She grins at me.

                “Wouldn’t dare do anything else.”

 

And they’re gone, slipping away into the maze of passages. Myra’s hand settles on my shoulder, and I settle down to the longest night of my life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another day, another update!
> 
> Caenea is on Twitter and Tumblr now, links on the profile page!
> 
> Thanks to all for the continuing support :)


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